Silent Vigil
by Glistening Sun
Summary: Sharon sighs and looks at the man asleep now in her son's bed. She does realise that these are her motherly instincts talking rather than her womanly ones. Caring comes to her easily, taking care of the lost, the injured ... but there is something new now, the woman in her slowly waking up to a new love. / Missing scene from 4x11: the evening before breakfast


**Silent Vigil - an episode tag to 4x11**

 **By Glistening Sun**

She only manages to bring him up to the condo with the help of Rusty and Lieutenant Provenza even if the latter's contribution mostly consists of nagging Andy. It does help in mustering his last reserves. How she doesn't understand, but it does. Those two have an odd relationship and she isn't about to get involved in that. Not now. Not ever.

She looks at Andy lying in her son's bed underneath the chess posters, some of Rusty's books still on the bedside table next to a glass of water and the medicines the ER physician prescribed. He is resting now, probably sleeping, but the pain is still visible in his features. Cracked ribs are a bitch - she knows from experience. Although it was rare that she found herself in the line of fire at FID, she did sustain a broken rib and a concussion at the hands of a renegade LAPD officer some years ago.

Careful not to wake him she adjusts the covers, pulls them up to his chin so she won't get cold and tenderly cups his cheek with one hand. She can feel the stubble that has grown over the day prickly against her skin. She wants to do something more for him, wants to comfort him, make him feel better, make him feel welcome in her home that they will share. She wants to hold him in her arms and rock him until he falls asleep.

Sharon sighs. She does realise that these are her motherly instincts talking rather than her womanly ones. Caring comes to her easily, taking care of the lost, the injured.

She is thinking about those other instincts of hers, those that make her a woman, those that were only recently reawakened by the very man lying in front of her now. First the handholding: her touches light and tentative, his strong and reassuring. Then the touches: Andy's warm eyes as he runs his fingers through her hair telling her how much he's been looking forward to doing that, the feel of his calloused hands against the skin of her face, her neck. Then, a few days ago, she was picking seashells at the ocean and he surprised her. She believed herself to be alone - until a shadow fell over her and she heard a familiar voice. Her heart jumped into her stomach, she dropped everything and jumped up throwing her arms around his neck without even thinking. Gosh, she reflected later as she found herself pressed against his chest, this was not how she had planned this to go! Their very first hug. And so much more, at least for her. This close his manly scent was overpowering and because she pressed herself against him, he reacted by wrapping her in his arms and holding her tight. She could feel him, feel every muscle, every hardness and softness of his body, feel the rush of excitement racing through her. It surprised her. She hadn't expected to ever again feel that kind of desire: certainly not at her age and certainly not after she had resigned herself to … well, to being alone.

Their first kiss. How she wishes now that she hadn't been so restrained in the past. They still haven't kissed, and it's something she's been looking forward to more and more. Not that Andy hasn't tried to initiate a kiss at numerous occasions. But she turned away her head every time, his lips landing on her cheek instead. More recently she started burrowing her face into the crook of his neck afterwards as he would hold her and chuckle lightly. Her hotheaded Lieutenant has been the epitome of patience when it comes to their relationship, so sweet and loving even when she knows she is being difficult. Intentionally so. Well, not intentionally difficult, but very intentionally taking it slow, being deliberate about every step they take together.

And now he's here, in her son's bed, injured. Now he's here, set to be living with her for the next weeks if not a full month. Now he's here and she's sitting at his bedside and all she can think about it how easily she could have lost him. She leans in and takes his uninjured hand into hers. His hands are so big, they dwarf hers. When he holds her hands or puts a hand around her shoulder she feels small, fragile almost. It's a new feeling. Fragility when she has always been so strong.

Thoughtfully she runs a finger over that godawful gold chain he's always wearing. She's never liked it when men wear jewellery, detests that chain Jack still wears around his neck – to spite her, she's sure. Her fingers find Andy's sobriety ring. She knows how proud he is of that ring and what it symbolises and she might even be more proud of it.

Sharon looks at his lips, soft and parted in sleep and closes her eyes. What would they feel like – on her lips instead of her cheek? Tomorrow, she promises herself, tomorrow when Andy is awake and Rusty is away for his meeting with Judge Grove, tomorrow she won't turn her head away, tomorrow she will find out how Andy's lips feel against her own.


End file.
